


Hot Tears to Drink

by AgentStannerShipper



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Consent Play, Greek Mythology AU, M/M, NSFW Art, Size Kink, but i promise its consensual and they talk about it after, it reads as noncon up until the end, nymph!aziraphale, satyr!crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 21:35:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18859564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentStannerShipper/pseuds/AgentStannerShipper
Summary: For a satyr, chasing the nymph is half the fun. The other half is what happens when the nymph is caught.





	Hot Tears to Drink

**Author's Note:**

> Heed the tags, guys. This is a consensual sex scene, but it reads heavily as noncon until its over and they talk about it. Take care of yourself. 
> 
> For those less familiar with Greek mythology, I'm using the version of satyr myths where they have goat legs and feet, horns, and massive, (almost) always erect cocks (look it up. its a thing). A lot of those myths involve satyrs in drunken revelry, worshiping Dionysis and chasing after nymphs trying to have sex with them. I made a tumblr post about a Greek mythology au like this one ages ago, and that's where this fic sprung from. 
> 
> Update: thank you to [oemuff](https://oemuff.tumblr.com/) for the gorgeous artwork! It can also be found [here](https://twitter.com/secretmuff/status/1171243057813102592)
> 
> Title is from a translation of a Greek poem by Meleager of Gadara I found on the internet and thought was apt. This is it:
> 
> Didn’t I tell you, oh soul, “Look out, you’ll be caught,
> 
> You silly thing, if you flutter so near her net?”
> 
> Didn’t I warn you?
> 
> And now the trap is sprung.
> 
> Why struggle in vain?
> 
> Love has tied your little wings,
> 
> Sprinkled you with cheap perfume, set you fainting in the fire
> 
> And given you, in your thirst, hot tears to drink.

“Well hello, beautiful.” Crowley leaned against a tree and leered, grinning as the dryad nestled amongst the branches startled and nearly lost his footing. Crowley licked his lips, pushing off of his tree to prop himself against the base of the dryad’s, shaking falling leaves from his horns as he peered up into the foliage. “It’s Aziraphale, isn’t it? Where are your friends?”

Aziraphale stared down at him, wide-eyed, and clung to the branches. He wet his lips nervously. “Friends?”

“The other nymphs,” Crowley purred. He stroked the tree’s bark. “They all seem to be…elsewhere. And such a pretty thing shouldn’t be alone on a beautiful day like today.”

“I-I’m alright. Really.”

“You sure?” Crowley leaned back, shaggy legs parted, and fondled his cock, drawing the dryad’s eyes to it. Crowley was big, even for a satyr, and it never took much for him to get it up. Aziraphale, even dressed modestly in an exomie that fell past his knees, had Crowley’s blood pounding in his ears and in his cock, which stood up from his body, stiff as a tree trunk and almost as thick. He pumped the length, groaning in pleasure, beads of precum leaking from the tip. “Why don’t you come down from there?” he told Aziraphale. “We can have some fun.”

“I…I think I’d rather not.”

“Oh, come on,” Crowley called up. “Don’t be a cock-tease.” He planted a hoof on the base of the tree. “If you won’t come down, I’ll just have to come up.”

“Wait!” Aziraphale yelped, but Crowley was already climbing. He was good at it, springing up on goat legs, hooves catching on knots in the trunk until he could crawl along the branches, prowling closer to the trembling nymph.

“It’s alright,” Crowley cooed, teeth bared in a wild grin. His cock hung down, the tip brushing against the bark and making him hiss and arch back, cupping the head in a careful palm. He grit his teeth. “You’ll feel much better than the tree, won’t you?”

“Well, I am a tree spirit,” Aziraphale stuttered, shuffling back along the limb he was perched on. “Perhaps you’d rather not find out?”

“Oh, I _rather_ think I would.” Crowley swiped a hand out at Aziraphale, and the dryad yelped. Just as swift as Crowley’s ascent was Aziraphale’s descent, the nymph dropping to the ground and breaking out into a sprint. Crowley whooped, fire raging in his stomach and groin as the dryad fled, and then yelped as he lost his balance and fell, hitting the ground hard, the wind knocked out of him. He grinned in the direction Aziraphale had taken off and sprang to his feet, eager to give chase.

He ran, swift as any goat. He could hear Aziraphale ahead of him, darting around trees, ducking through thickets, moving like his sister-spirits, the Aurai. Crowley chased him deeper and deeper into the woods, as the trees grew thicker and more gnarled, his own blood thrumming in his ears, his cock swinging heavy between his legs, aching for his quarry.

Up ahead, Crowley could see a clearing, and just beyond that, a river. If Aziraphale reached the river, the naiads might help him across, and Crowley would lose him. He doubled his speed, charging headfirst, and tackled the nymph, bowling him into the thick grass and pinning him there. He rutted against Aziraphale’s chiton, grinning savagely.

Aziraphale struggled under his grip, fists beating at the dirt. “Let me go! Unhand me, beast!”

“That’s it,” Crowley groaned. Every squirm of Aziraphale’s body rubbed his cock, offering delicious friction. “You’re going to feel so good on my cock, sweetheart.”

“No!” Aziraphale cried out. He tried to twist around, to beat at Crowley, but Crowley held him fast.

“I’m going to make you feel things you never dreamed you could feel,” Crowley hissed in his ear. He flattened himself against Aziraphale, knees spread wide, forcing the dryad further into the ground. “Pretty little nymph. Flirting, tempting me. You know you wanted this. You’re a little slut, aren’t you, a little fluttering thing desperate for a fat cock to split you open like a blossom. I’ll give it to you, sweetheart, give you the cock you’re aching for.”

“Please,” Aziraphale whimpered. He was still struggling, but it was weaker now. He panted, exhausted. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

Crowley panted right along with him, not with exhaustion but with lust. “What I want,” he said, “is you.” He reached down, rubbing at the edge of Aziraphale’s tunic. “What do you have for me under here, hmm? A sweet little cunt? A nice, tight hole? Can never tell with you nymphs. You’re all so pretty, too pretty for your own good.” He dipped his fingers higher, even as Aziraphale scrabbled to push his clothes down again. “I guess I’ll just have to find out for myself.”

He forced the dryad up onto his knees, holding him tight around the waist with one strong arm. Aziraphale’s increasingly weak struggles were nothing to him as Crowley shoved the nymph’s chiton up, exposing his bare arse to the air. Crowley groaned, sliding his cock between the plush cheeks, thick streams of precum slicking the way as he ground himself against Aziraphale, fucking along his crack. “Tight hole it is,” he murmured, a low rumble in his throat. He squeezed the dryad’s cheeks together, making a channel for him to fuck into, and moaned again. “You feel so good already, sweetheart,” he groaned. “I can’t wait to come inside.”

“Please.” Aziraphale had, disappointingly, gone limp, too weak to struggle any longer. There were tears in his eyes, a sob in his voice. “It’s too big. It won’t fit.”

“It will,” Crowley soothed. He pulled away enough to press at Aziraphale’s hole with his thumb, spreading the nymph even wider with his knees, grass scratching at his fur. “Sweet little hole like yours was made to be fucked by me. You were made to take a fat cock, sweetheart, and you’re going to get one.”

Aziraphale whimpered as Crowley pressed his thumb just inside the rim, grunting as it sucked the digit in. He pulled it out again, then reached for his cock, slicking his hand with precum before sliding one finger inside the dryad, all the way to the base. Aziraphale cried out and thrashed, and Crowley tightened his grip.

“Don’t fight it,” he breathed, staring at the place where his finger disappeared into the nymph. He pumped it in and out, his cock throbbing as he imagined it being buried in that tight heat. “It’ll be better if you don’t fight. I’ve got you. I have you.”

He added a second finger, scissoring them apart, stretching Aziraphale farther. He could have just slammed in, could have done it the second he’d caught Aziraphale, but Crowley wanted to take his time. He wanted to enjoy it. “That’s it,” he murmured as Aziraphale slumped against the ground, supported only by Crowley’s arm around his stomach. When he added the third finger, Aziraphale began to cry in earnest, and Crowley winced, wiping the tears swiftly from the dryad’s cheeks.

“Don’t cry,” he begged. “Don’t cry, sweetheart, please.” He bit his lip. His cock was still hard, undeterred by the tears, and Crowley withdrew his fingers, gripping the base of it to relieve some of the pressure. In Aziraphale’s ear, he pleaded, “Please don’t cry. You’ll enjoy it, I promise. I’ll make you feel so good.”

“It’s too big,” Aziraphale sobbed again. He squirmed weakly. “It’s too big, it’ll hurt.”

“No, it won’t, I promise.” Crowley’s voice took on a desperate tone. He couldn’t wait any longer. The lust was building in his blood, was burning at his skin. He lined himself up, pressing the head against the dryad’s gaping hole. It looked tiny in comparison. His words were more pant than speech, “It’s going in now. Don’t fight it, and I promise it won’t hurt.”

Aziraphale _shrieked_ when Crowley pushed in the first inch. Where he’d been limp, he suddenly came to life, twisting and fighting against Crowley’s grip, so that Crowley had to grab him with both hands, to force him face-first into the dirt and slam himself in as deep as he could go, a long groan bursting from his throat as his length was swallowed by tight heat, eased by his own slick precum. He held himself there, Aziraphale’s body a plush cushion between himself and the ground. He pressed his forehead between the nymph’s shoulder blades, pressing desperate kisses to the skin. “It’s okay,” he repeated over and over again, “it’s okay, it’s in. _Fuck_ , you’re taking so much of it.”

“Too much,” Aziraphale whimpered into the grass, his head turned to the side so Crowley could see his eyes were closed, his face scrunched up.

“Shh, no, not too much,” Crowley whispered. He leaned forward a little farther, biting back a grunt of pleasure as it rocked him a little deeper into Aziraphale. He kissed the dryad’s cheek. “It’s not too much. You’re taking me so deep, sweetheart, so much of me is inside you.” Aziraphale’s arse was a vice around him, squeezing so tight around Crowley’s thick length he thought he might burst. He wanted to fuck, to rut like the animal he was. “It’s almost all of me,” he panted in disbelief. A few inches remained outside, and he reached down, wrapping his fist around them to mimic the clench of Aziraphale’s body. He moaned. “I didn’t think…”

He nuzzled against Aziraphale’s hair, nosing into the beautiful white curls. “I’m going to fuck you now,” he said. He couldn’t hold back much longer, couldn’t keep himself from claiming what he’d won, the prey he’d caught. “I’m going to fuck you so good, sweetheart, going to make you scream my name.” He gave a slow roll of his hips, testing the drag, and grunted. “ _Yeah_. Sweet little hole, built just for me.”

He withdrew and then snapped his hips forward, sheathing himself again. He reared back, dragging Aziraphale a little off the ground so Crowley had more leverage, could build up a rhythm of sharp, fast thrusts, pounding himself into the nymph, fucking his arse with abandon. Crowley threw back his head and let out a guttural, feral whoop of pleasure, hips slamming against Aziraphale’s arse, heavy balls smacking him with each thrust. Aziraphale was like a ragdoll in his grip, but his hole was tight, his body tense, clutching at Crowley as he ploughed the nymph like a field, burrowing into him as deep as he could go, stabbing himself into Aziraphale’s body over and over again and moaning with satisfaction.

He was like a battering ram, his cock rubbing viciously at Aziraphale’s walls, and the dryad sobbed as Crowley abused his prostate, scraping against it on every thrust. “So good,” Crowley grunted, his chest heaving as he felt his balls getting tighter. He smacked Aziraphale’s arse and felt it clench down around him, and he growled. “ _Yes_. Fuck, sweetheart, that’s it. So tight. Gonna make me come.” He was close, he could feel it. The pressure was building inside him, the flames roaring higher and higher. He bent low over Aziraphale’s back, adjusting the angle, allowing himself just a tiny bit deeper. He went back to rubbing the base of his cock, the bit he couldn’t fit in, squeezing rhythmically with his punishing thrusts and groaning. “I’m so close, sweetheart, so close.”

“ _Crowley_ ,” Aziraphale gasped. “ _Crowley_ , _please._ ”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’m here.” Crowley sped up. He was getting desperate. He needed to come more than he needed to breathe. He was sure his hips were bruising Aziraphale’s arse with the force of his thrusts, and he ground himself in, rutting frantically. “I’m almost there. Just a little bit more.”

Aziraphale’s body clamped down around him, and Crowley cried out, almost a howl, as his orgasm exploded from him. He slammed himself home, planting himself as deep inside Aziraphale as he could get, hips twitching in tiny, rutting thrusts as he fucked through his orgasm, milking out every thick pulse of cum, prolonging the pleasure. He grunted, eyes screwing shut as he started to ache, and he collapsed against Aziraphale’s back, his cock sensitive but still cradled in the warmth of Aziraphale’s body. He sighed in satisfaction.

After a moment, he sat up and pulled out carefully. He stroked a gentle hand over Aziraphale’s back. The dryad was still limp in the grass. “Aziraphale? Sweetheart?”

Aziraphale made a low sound that Crowley couldn’t identify. Hesitantly, he smoothed down Aziraphale’s chiton so it covered him again. “Aziraphale, talk to me. Please.”

“That was lovely.”

Crowley relaxed. “Really? When you started crying, I worried I’d done it wrong.”

“You did it perfectly.” Aziraphale snuggled into the grass, making himself comfy, and opened his eyes, smiling at Crowley. “I would have said otherwise.”

“You did tell me no.”

“But that was part of the game.”

“I know.” They’d had a word Aziraphale could say if he’d really wanted to stop, but it hadn’t made listening to the nymph’s struggles any easier. Crowley sat back in the grass, crossing his legs and propping his elbows on his knees. His fur itched a little, tacky with drying precum and semen. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to chasing you.”

“I like it when you chase me. Sometimes.”

Crowley smiled. “And I like it when you chase me.” He ran trailing fingers down Aziraphale’s calf, where the tunic didn’t reach. “Do you still need to get off? I didn’t hear you-“

Aziraphale blushed and pushed himself off the ground and into a sprawling sit. Beneath his hips, the movement revealed a splattering of white against the grass, and Crowley’s eyes widened. He stared at Aziraphale. “Really?”

Aziraphale shrugged. “It felt good.” He smiled slyly, a smile that had no place on the face of a nymph (except perhaps a maenad, who Crowley avoided at all costs). “You make me feel good with your big, fat cock.”

Said cock twitched against Crowley’s thigh, and he groaned. As previously mentioned, it never took much for a satyr to get it up, and Aziraphale would do it for Crowley any time. He shook his head. “I personally though that was a bit much. The dirty talk, I mean.”

“Well, it is applicable. You are rather large. Even for a satyr.”

He was, Crowley conceded. “And you take it beautifully.”

“I do wish I could take all of it,” Aziraphale said wistfully.

“Slut,” Crowley said, with more affection than the word warranted. He leaned close and gave Aziraphale a sweet kiss. “You take plenty. More than I ever thought you’d be able to.” For all his dirty talk, a nymph really wasn’t built to take a satyr. Not with any amount of pleasure on the nymph’s part (although considerable pleasure on the satyr’s, and Crowley always winced even thinking about it). But Aziraphale was the stubborn type, and he’d been determined where Crowley had been unsure.

Aziraphale squirmed a little as gravity caught up to his body, and Crowley’s semen finally began to leak out. He eyed the river, and Crowley laughed, scooping him up and drawing Aziraphale onto his lap so he could press kisses along the dryad’s cheeks and nose.

“Don’t even think about it,” he murmured between kisses. “Last time you jumped in a river after we had sex, the naiads wouldn’t let you cross running water for weeks.”

“What do you propose I do about it, then?” Aziraphale asked. “You do come quite a lot, my dear, and as much as I like it in the moment, it’s not the most comfortable after the fact.”

Crowley grinned, tipping Aziraphale backwards into the grass and pushing his knees up and apart, making room for himself. He smiled down at Aziraphale. “I think I’ve got an idea.” Mindful of his horns, he lowered his head. His tongue swiped over Aziraphale’s hole, and Aziraphale gasped, moaning in pleasure and reaching down to grip at Crowley’s hair.

“I really, _oh_ , like this idea,” he managed. He rocked his hips down against Crowley’s mouth as Crowley worked his tongue inside him. “But only if, _ah_ , you let me return the favour afterwards.”

Crowley groaned. His cock had already begun swelling, but the image Aziraphale had just put in his head had him rock-solid in seconds. “I love you so fucking much,” he mumbled, licking his way deeper into Aziraphale’s body.

Aziraphale smiled up at the sky and pet his hair. “I love you too, my darling.” Then he cried out as Crowley’s tongue twisted inside him, and he gave himself back over to pleasure.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Hot Tears to Drink](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21692002) by [Gorillazgal86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gorillazgal86/pseuds/Gorillazgal86)




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